


Oh Breathe, Just Breathe

by HSavinien



Category: due South
Genre: Alcohol, Camping, F/F, Introspection, M/M, Police, Post-Canon, Relationship(s), Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 00:54:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16545692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HSavinien/pseuds/HSavinien
Summary: Destiny, is it a thing?  What if this is the place they're supposed to be?  What if it's not?  Francesca and Ray approach their self-doubts and questions differently.





	1. Intro

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ride_Forever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ride_Forever/gifts).



There was a policing conference June 8-10th in New Orleans, Louisiana. Well, outside of it, really, more in the boonies an hour or so drive out from the city itself. Ray didn't want to go, because Dewey was going and the forecast said humidity and rain for the whole weekend, but Welsh looked at him tiredly and Fraser talked about what a great opportunity it was until he gave in and signed up. It was hot and muggy and Ray came home with ten mosquito bites, a voodoo doll, and a renewed hatred of spending time with Dewey. He told everyone in earshot about it loudly and at length and Frannie nodded along sympathetically for about five minutes, then tuned him out. She wouldn’t want to hang out with Dewey that long, but she hadn’t wanted to spend that much time with her cousin Valentina for three summers in a row and everyone had survived. Ray hadn’t even had to share a room with Dewey. 

For Francesca’s story, go to Chapter 2. For Ray’s story, go to Chapter 3.


	2. Francesca's story

Francesca filed the training paperwork and the case paperwork and the PTO paperwork, in between studying for her humanities class at the community college and helping Mort write up the minutes for the May LGPA meeting and working on decorations for Chicago Pride. She was doing tissue paper flowers for the super’s car and had about a thousand left to make.

They were doing pretty well, all things considered. It had taken Frannie a while to really get the whole point of people belonging to the Lesbian and Gay Police Association while closeted. She was only closeted to her nonna because it was basically unkind to have to explain it every two weeks (because of the Alzheimer’s) and upset her all over again. But she also had an older brother and two almost-brothers with connections who would make life unpleasant for anybody at the 2-7 who said or did anything more than usually nasty for her. Not everybody had that, even if Fraser would probably disapprove anyone to death who gave somebody grief in his hearing about who they liked to kiss. 

Doc Esther had been pretty clear on that the first time Frannie said something dumb and Frannie did pride herself on learning pretty quick unless it was algebra. Kathy was president, and she was out, and Frannie was, and Sammy and Mary and Dorothy and Sue and Fitz and Karen and a couple of other people, but most of the rest of them were on the rolls as “Jane” or “John” and Frannie got that once it had been explained to her. She could see how her dad might have pitched a fit, but Ma and Uncle Lorenzo would’ve talked him around. But not everybody had Ray and Ma and Uncle Lorenzo and an extra Ray and Fraser and even Maria and her stupid husband, annoying but willing to wave little rainbow flags if it made her happy. Some of the kids they got in sometimes sure didn’t have that and cops might be bigger, but someone disgusted and hating at your back could get still get a grown-up killed.

But Pride was coming up and she had a lotta paper flowers to make. Sometimes the way you made things better was with flowers.

Mort’s great niece was going to drop off more supplies and Elaine was coming over to help, so Frannie stopped by Mario’s pizza parlor on the way home and picked up a couple of pies. She put on some music, fed Ante, and was just getting a serious shimmy on when Anneka rang the bell. The girl was tinier than Francesca and a whirlwind of a person, stopping just long enough to pile a massive couple bags of paper on Frannie’s couch and inhale a slice, then banging out again with a wave goodbye.

Frannie got down to work with the scissors and craft glue, bopping along to the music and pausing for a bite every three flowers or so. She was sitting in a pile of purple by the time the bell rang again.

Elaine dropped a six-pack of cider on the table, kicked off her boots and shoved a piece of pizza in her mouth. She swallowed the last bite, wiped her face and hands off on a paper napkin and smooshed into the couch cushion. Frannie petted her head awkwardly backwards and hummed, moving on to the blue paper.

“Rough day, huh?”

Elaine groaned. “If I never get another dipshit detective asking me to run plate number 80085, it will be too soon.”

“Geez, it’s been years since you were an aide.” Francesca rolled her eyes. “I think some of them are secretly still twelve and it takes over their mouths when they’re talking to pretty women.” She dropped another flower in the pile. “If they think they’re being funny and original, I’ve got a bridge in Bucktown to sell them.”

“Yeah,” Elaine sighed. “The lieu would chew them out if he heard, but they somehow never crack jokes like that when he’s in earshot.”

“Just miraculous,” Francesca said wryly. She tucked a blue flower behind Elaine’s ear. “Want to get your hands busy and tell me about the rest of your day?”

“Sure, just give me a second to grab my drink first. You want one?”

Frannie took the opened bottle, and squeaked. It was so cold the bottle was sweating. She swooped it to the side quick to stop it dripping on the paper. “Watch it with that! The flowers’ll turn into mush if they get wet.”

Elaine passed a paper napkin and Francesca wrapped it around her bottle, then took a quick drink. 

“All right,” Elaine said. “Just start anywhere?”

“Take the green and yellow, try to keep your color piles separate, and go nuts,” Frannie told her. She jumped up to stretch her back and switched through radio channels to find something more jazzy. “Showtime.”

They worked for a couple hours, talking and humming or singing along to the radio when something good came on, and got through about three quarters of the pizza. It was pleasantly monotonous work, the kind that Frannie’s ma had tried singing the praises of for years before giving up and ordering Frannie to do her chores for God’s sake, none of her kids were going to be helpless around the house. The flowers mounded in drifts around the couch. 

Frannie got up and stretched again, trying to pop her twanging shoulder. “Ugh… Hey, can you get the kink out of my back?” She gestured vaguely.

“Backrub?” Elaine suggested, doing her own stretching.

“Yes, please!” She brushed the couch free of paper and flopped on her front. It smelled a little like dust and grease, but it was hers, which was better than smelling like her Ma’s lavender cleaner any day.

Elaine knelt up behind her and dug her knuckles directly into the worst of the knots above Francesca’s shoulder blade. “You’re really comfortable with touching, huh?”

“Nnngk. Umf, yeah, shouldn’t I be?” Frannie tried not to tense against the pain of the knot loosening.

“Hm, not if it makes you happy, I guess.” Elaine’s palms flattened against her for a moment. “It takes some getting used to. Not so many people on the force that I want to touch.”

“Besides me.” Francesca grinned into the couch.

Elaine patted the back of her neck. “Yeah, besides you.” 

Francesca preened inwardly. It was good to be an exception to that rule. It felt like destiny sometimes, like all the shitty things and bad people and just wrong people that she’d run into were just getting her to the place where she could have this minute. This person in this place.

“Hey, we should take a break,” Francesca said, turning her head to squint back at Elaine.

“Oh yeah?” Elaine’s hand rested warm on the small of her back. “You’re not getting sick of decorations already?”

Frannie rolled her eyes. “Ha ha, funny. No, I mean I want to take a break and make your legs too wobbly to go home tonight.”

“Hmm, we could do that.” Elaine tugged her hair gently. “How’s your back doing?”

“Better, fine, it’s great.” She rolled off the couch, grabbing Elaine’s hand on her way down. “Come on, bedroom time!”

Ante looked up sleepily from her bed by the TV, then flopped her head back down with a sigh as Francesca tugged Elaine past. Elaine tripped over her own jacket, but caught herself and stumbled on, laughing. They fetched up against the wall outside the bedroom and Frannie twirled them around so Elaine was a warm soft weight pushing her against the paneling. 

Frannie buried her hands in Elaine’s hair, fishing for her hair tie. She popped it loose and the rich, curling mass of it sprang out over her hands in a waft of coconut scent. 

Elaine sighed against Francesca’s mouth. “I always forget how good that feels.”

“You should wear it down more,” Frannie said. “”Well, I guess maybe not at work, but it’s so pretty.”

“I guess you’re the only one here who would touch it and I like you touching me…”

Francesca wrinkled her nose. “Right right, I forgot, sorry. People suck.” She kissed Elaine again. Elaine’s lips moved soft against hers, then trailed up to her ear. Frannie wobbled, going hot from knees to ears in a single rush. “Mmf, bed.”

“Mmm.” Elaine tugged her into the bedroom and tipped them both into bed. They fell sideways, awkward, with knees places they shouldn’t be, and a couple of oofs, and Francesca planted her hands on either side of Elaine’s head to kiss her thoroughly. Elaine retaliated, sliding one hand up the back of Francesca’s blouse and unhooking her bra. The other trailed firm swirling patterns over her shoulders and the back of her neck.

Francesca sat back long enough to pull off her blouse and toss it and the bra toward the chair, then leaned back in, catching Elaine’s hand and cupping it around one of her breasts. She was hungry for Elaine’s touch, never mind that she’d been getting it all evening off and on, aching for her attention.

“How are you always this confident?” Elaine asked, laughing. 

“Come one, you know I’m not,” Francesca said. “I just do things even when I do them wrong. Gotta keep going, ‘cause if I turn around, I’ll just repeat the mistakes I already finished with.” She straightened her shoulders back up, and tossed her hair back, which didn’t work quite as well as it did on the soap operas.

Elaine caught Francesca’s cheek in her free hand. “I know. You’re good at it.”

“Besides, If I shut up, I can’t apologize when I say something clueless.” Frannie kissed Elaine’s palm, and unzipped her own slacks. “Now c’mon, we had some business to take care of.” She unbuttoned Elaine’s blouse between kisses, pressing into the hands tracing circles on her breasts. The sheets slid under them, rumpling where Frannie hadn’t tucked them in all the way - lazy - but she didn’t care. They were clean, the lingering smell of the lemony detergent almost covered this close to the smell of Elaine after a day of work. They didn’t have a lot of overlapping free time and the salt tinge of her sweat and coconut from her shampoo, spice from the pizza and sweet of the cider of her breath made Francesca nearly dizzy, breathing her in.

Elaine pulled the blouse off and unsnapped the front clasp of her bra. She made promising noises as Francesca nipped across her collarbone, then kissed down her chest to fasten her teeth gently into the soft skin under her breasts, sucking tiny red marks in patterns. Frannie slid her hands down Elaine’s sides soft enough to make her squirm from the tickle and swat Francesca’s head. “Trouble! I always end up falling for trouble,” Elaine complained, laughing.

The low-level melancholy of missing her let up with Elaine’s laugh, and like that everything shifted into quick scrambling. There were a few minutes of motion and then Francesca was on her stomach, army-clambering in between Elaine’s thighs, and trailing the sharp edges of her teeth up soft skin. She tasted salt and the warm musk of Elaine. When she bit at the big tendon, Elaine’s thighs clamped around her head. They almost blocked the shuddering moan as she teased a finger over warm slipperiness. This was a good place. She kissed Elaine and slid two fingers carefully inside her and just loved.


	3. Ray's Story

Ray was the last person to talk about destiny. What kinda destiny was he supposed to have? He fought his dad about the Police Academy, Stella's dad about Stella, Stella about their relationship, Fraser about everything, constantly... If there was destiny at work somehow, it was counting on some pretty specific amounts of stubborn-ass out of him, and even more out of Stella and Fraser. On the other hand, destiny might account for the weird-shit magnet that had somehow attached itself to his back. Or was that Fraser again? Maybe Fraser had a destiny and Ray was just along as the funny sidekick.

But maybe destiny had a hand in this. Like he can’t jump the track, because there’s no other way that he could have convinced Fraser to actually take some of the hundreds of hours of leave he had saved up with no better excuse than “I was away for a week and I missed your dumb face.”

Probably the offer to go actual-facts camping helped too. Fraser did like the woods, even if they were Wisconsin woods, not ass-end of Canada ones. They rented a tent, since Ray felt slightly happier at the prospect of night in the woods with a layer of fabric between him and the wild. The only one left at the store was, for some unholy reason, shiny gold and purple and covered in Fleur-de-Lis, but Ray would put up with spending time in The Wild in an honest-to-god circus tent reject if he had to.

The rest of the supplies they needed, Fraser had managed to replace after the arsonist (weirdest first case with a new partner, ever) had toasted his originals. Ray helped by finding a backpack and buying snacks. Fraser wouldn't like the snacks, but that was not Ray's problem. Dief would like the snacks, but he'd refused to return to the wild if Fraser's life wasn't in danger and was bunking with Ma Vecchio, who was feeling lonely after Frannie moved out.

They ended up in a campground out in the boonies on the Rock River, with mosquitoes buzzing around outside the ring of citronella candles they'd set up. There was a firepit that Fraser had busied himself over for about twenty seconds, and it was sending up a cozy blaze that Ray was definitely roasting marshmallows over later. Ray fought with the tent for about forty minutes, including a stint as a purple-and-gold ghost, three pinched fingers, and a guidewire that kept coming loose until he tied about twelve knots in it. But it was up – and not sagging too bad – by the time Fraser'd finished setting up everything else. Fraser poked curiously at the paper bag that the lieutenant had handed them along with Ray's signed vacation slip.

“Go on and open it already,” Ray called, kicking surreptitiously at the lumpy bit in the tent floor. He looked over when Fraser made a surprised hmm. He had half-unwrapped a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses from the newspaper that had stopped them clinking or breaking inside the bag.

“Do you want this, or shall I put it away?” Fraser asked.

“I'm good,” Ray said. He settled on the log Fraser had pulled over by the fire and took a swig from his water bottle. “So...uh.”

“So?”

“Uh, how was crime while I was gone?”

Fraser shrugged. “Fairly typical. There was a tropical frog smuggling operation, but the wildlife biologists cleaned everything up with alacrity after the arrests.”

Ray sighed and prodded the fire with a stick. How was this their life? “Gotcha. Is it dinner time yet?”

Fraser handed him a better stick and a sausage and Ray mostly managed to cook it over the fire without burning it too bad or dropping it. The buns were the good ones from the Polish bakery and the mustard was the brown kind with actual texture. Fraser told a story that did not involve cannibalism, so that was also good. There were hunters working traplines near each other and helping each other out. His voice got into the rhythm of it steady enough that Ray could feel it in his bones.

The fire spiraled sparks up into the dark, the smoke curling into invisibility between the tree branches above them, and above that there were stars.

One of the logs popped and broke and Ray shook his head. “That was a good one, Fraser. You want marshmallows now? They got marshmallows up in the frozen north?”

“Well, yes, Ray, but my grandparents considered them a waste of space and money.”

“Of course they did. Okay,” Ray said. “I'm gonna do your first one medium brown, so watch. Then you can try it.”

“I bow to your expertise,” Fraser said. When Ray looked over, his face was set in solemn concentration, but there were laugh crinkles around his eyes.

So Ray focused really hard on the marshmallow and the coals and turning it right to compensate for the crooked part of the stick and when he looked up and stuck the perfect golden-brown marshmallow in Frase's face, the very tip of his tongue was poking out in a thinky expression. And that was...something.

Fraser pulled the marshmallow off the stick.

“Careful, it's gonna be hot,” Ray said.

He blew on it, then took a careful bite, making a muffled surprised noise when the toasted shell cracked and squished, trailing strings of marshmallow goo between his fingers.

“So, what do you think?”

Fraser managed to get his mouth unstuck. “Messier than expected.” He ate another three anyway. Ray threatened to tell Dief that Fraser wasn't actually anti-sugar and help stage donut coups.

After a while, Ray slid off the log and lay back against it so he could look up at the stars instead. “I, uh, brought you a present from New Orleans,” Ray said.

“That was unnec-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah I know,” Ray said. “It's nothing much, don't worry about it. It's under my coat in the tent.”

Fraser levered himself up and leaned over to poke around in the tent and Ray didn't watch, because you didn't let yourself get in the habit of that. Even if Fraser didn't mind. He came back out with the paper-wrapped package and dropped down next to Ray. It took him longer to unwrap than Ray figured on, he was being so careful, but when he shook out the New Orleans Mounted Police t-shirt, he grinned.

“Ah, our southern counterparts.”

“Yeah, they were okay. Uniforms aren't as fancy,” Ray said, only half-hearing himself. Fraser was smiling and Ray wanted to hold onto him for about forever.

“Well, thank you, Ray. I appreciate the gift.” And Fraser stuck out an arm and wrapped it around him and Ray leaned back into it like it was a curve on a motorcycle and that lean was safety.

Fraser hummed. Ray stared up at the sky and pretended this was a thing they got to do every day.

“...Ray...Ray?” Fraser jostled him a little

“Huh, what?”

“You were a hundred miles away,” Fraser said, not reproachfully, just pointing it out.

“Yeah. Just...this is good. This here with us.” Ray stretched his legs out. “Just wishing it was...something we got to do more.”

Fraser hmmed again and scooched himself closer, so when he nodded, Ray could feel it against the side of his head. “At least we have right now.”

Ray turned then, and pulled him in fast, kissing Ben because he couldn't stand not kissing him any longer. Ben's mouth opened under his – hot and sweet from the marshmallow – and Ray bit and sucked at his bottom lip to make him groan. He pushed harder until Ben tipped backward into the pine needles and grabbed Ray and pulled him down too. Ray turned as he fell over and caught himself, one hand in the dirt and the other on Ben. His hip was jammed into the log, but one of his hands was planted on the hot-flannel-soft up and down of Ben's panting chest; underneath his fingers was heartbeat. Ben's mouth was soft and his cheeks were rough with a day's stubble. Ray was pretty scratchy himself, but Ben's hands were cupping his face anyway.

Ben rolled away from the log until they could lie flat. One of Ray's knees slotted in between Ben's and he buried one hand in Ben's hair, tugging a little. Ben's hips jerked up and Ray groaned into his mouth. Ben pulled his mouth away with a gasp. “Ray, Ray, wait.”

It took Ray a second to reboot his brain enough to focus. “Huh?”

“Sorry, Ray, there's a rock digging into my rear.”

Ray rolled off him and ended up flat on his back on the ground, laughing. “Yeah, I bet there is.”

“Ray...” Ben's eyeroll was almost audible. Then he was on top of Ray instead, and his mouth was doing something sharp and warm to Ray's collarbone.

“Missed you,” Ray told the top of his head. Ray laced his fingers into the hair at the back of Ben's neck where it was starting to curl. Ben kind of folded down on top of him until Ray was squished under the good weight of warm body and soft flannel. One of Ben's knees landed between Ray's in a mirror of where they'd been a minute ago and Ben's face tucked in under Ray's chin.

“I missed you too, Ray.”

Ray petted Ben's hair and breathed through the weight on his chest. Ben's face was hot, maybe from the campfire. A stick popped in the fire and sent a string of sparks high enough that Ray could see them trailing up to mix with the stars over Ben's head. Ben's hair smelled like smoke and sugar and soap and him and Ray was hot hot hot for him and Ben was undoing Ray's buttons and everything was moving good again, in sync like the best times.

Ray shoved his hands up the back of Ben's shirt, warm skin under cold fingers.

“Ray, trousers,” Ben said against his neck, so Ray reversed direction and slid them under the waistband of Fraser's jeans instead. Ben laughed breathlessly. “No, off...” he huffed.

Ray groped him a little more, until Ben propped himself up enough to actually fit hands in between them, then maneuvered both their flies open. “Do you want to...tent?” Ray asked.

“Mmmyes. No mosquitoes in the tent.” Ben groaned and rolled away to douse the fire in a roil of grey smoke and ash.

Ray was immediately cold with the warmth of the fire gone, with no Ben on top of him as a heater. He rolled onto his hands and knees, which creaked.

Ben offered him a hand up, then they were in the tent, Ray stumbling out of his shoes. They met kneeling, the nylon dome too short to stand up in. That was a-okay. That was just fine, because it meant that Ray was less likely to fall over when Ben actually finally stuck his hand down the front of Ray's jeans, the zipper sliding down like it didn't stick half the time when Ray had to take a whizz.

“When did you get smooth?” Ray asked. Ben shook against him and for a moment he was worried, but nah.

Ben was laughing. “I didn't know I was,” he said. “I just wanted-”

“To feel me up?”

“Well, yes, Ray.”

“Yeah, all right. We getting naked first?”

“If you insist, I suppose,” Ben said solemnly, a smirk leaking out around the edges of it.

“This'll probably go better if you don't help, then.”

Ben nodded, and started stripping off quick and mechanical. Ray pulled his own shirts off, then rolled over to get his pants. He watched, though. There was just enough light from the little electric lantern to get a blueish look at shoulder-back-knee-forearm bared. The citronella candles had burned out, but the smell lingered even where there should have been only the smell of sweat and him and Ben together. Ray pulled off his socks and slid close, to where Ben was just checking to make sure the tent was all the way zipped. His shoulders had inched upwards towards tension and that wasn't right.

“Okay?”

“All secure.”

“I meant you, not the tent.”

“Oh, well, of course.”

“Only, if you wanna play pinochle or something instead...”

“Ray.”

“Maybe some gin rummy.”

“Ray...”

“Maybe-”

“Ray!”

Ray grinned. It was fun being the annoying one, once in a while, and Ben's whatever moment was derailed. “What?”

“Would you please kiss me instead of being ridiculous?”

“Yeah, if you want.”

Ray kissed him. Really got in there, licking and nipping like he learned in basements and backseats and discos, not too wet, just enough dirty, because Ben hadn't ever had enough of that, of being raw and close and naked with somebody who wanted him and liked him and trusted him. Ray put all of it out there, fed Ben happy groans when Ben mimicked him and worked out how to bite just enough to make Ray's cock jump. He pulled Ben over on top of him again and moaned at the solid weight of him. Ray dug his fingers into Ben's back, stroked down the muscles there. Ben brushed featherlight over Ray's jaw, throat, ear with his lips and tongue, then zeroed back in on Ray's mouth to lick and suck Ray's lower lip. Ray grabbed Ben's hair again, lacing his fingers through it. Ben whimpered when he pulled, lighting Ray up like it was his birthday.

“Hey, you good?”

“Mmyes, Ray.”

“You want to fuck me?”

Ben stilled for a second, thinking about it. “Not tonight, Ray. Your hand?”

“Yeah, I can do that.” Ray kissed him again, tasted his mouth, the sweet from the marshmallows gone. “I can...”

He nudged his hips up, rocking against Ben for a moment, then tipped them both over sideways for room. Ray's hands weren't cold, but the soft hard slide of skin over Ben's cock was hot against his palm.

The air went out of Ben in a rush. “Ray-”

His face pushed hot into the side of Ray’s neck, his hips hitching forward as Ray got a grip on him. “Yeah yeah yeah,” Ray breathed. “Got you.” Ray got his other arm under Ben’s neck so he could hold on tight. He dug his fingers into the rigid muscle of Ben’s shoulder and jerked him off slow and sweet at the pace he knew was just shy of enough, just the right amount to leave Ben twitching with wanting. 

Ben made a dark, needy “Mnn…” that tingled down to Ray’s toes. He sped up, matched the pace that Ben was rutting against him, pressed messy kisses against Ben’s hair and forehead and tasted salt. Ben’s mouth moved on Ray’s neck, random and desperate, then teeth dug in as he stiffened and came all over Ray’s hands and stomach.

Ray gentled him, swiping the messy hand clean on his discarded t-shirt, then smoothing both hands down Ben’s back until his breathing evened out. Ben sighed against his collarbone. 

“Ray,” he sighed. “That was...very good.”

Ray grinned to himself. “Glad you approve.” Wanna hold him, Ray’s brain said, and it was probably the best thing it had said to him in years. So he did.


End file.
